The Hollow: Preacher Brothers, 4 Read online

  I couldn’t wait any longer. And so I positioned myself between her thighs, grappling with my self-control. I could smell her, the sweet scent of her arousal. I could feel the heat from her body spearing into me.

  It was all for me.

  As I looked between her thighs and saw the way her pussy was spread, her wetness glistening under the muted light coming through the window, my cock gave a mighty jerk. I wanted to run my tongue through her pussy folds, to suck all of her cream into my mouth, swallowing it, taking her into my body the way she’d take me into hers.

  “God,” she moaned, closing her eyes and arching her back, pressing her breasts up and out, her nipples hardening even more. “You make me feel like I’m burning from the inside out, Frankie.”

  God, me too, baby. Me. Too.

  I slipped my forearm under her thigh and parted her leg even farther. I pushed my cock against her slit. She was hot as hell against my dick, and the fact that she was this wet, soaking my length, turned me on to the point I was barely holding onto my control.

  Taking hold of the root of my dick, I tormented myself by running my cockhead up and down the center of her pussy. A guttural groan spilled from me at the feel of her slick, hot pussy. I was riveted to the sight of the bulbous head of my erection pushing against her cleft, spreading her pussy lips wide.

  Her clit was a swollen little bud at the top of her mound, and my tongue swelled with the need to suck it into my mouth, to draw out her pleasure from those nerve endings. I wanted to bury my face in her pussy, licking and sucking, pushing my finger deep into her tight, virgin body and claiming her all for myself.

  Taking a deep, stabilizing breath, I pressed the head of my dick at her entrance, not penetrating her, just teasing and tormenting her and me.

  I didn’t push into her right away, just held her gaze with mine as I started to slowly rock back and forth, causing my length to move up and down. The tip of my shaft got soaked from her cream, and when I stopped at her entrance again, I gently started to push into her.

  Over and over, I did this, not fully thrusting in, just a little, then pulling out and sliding the crown up her slit to her clit before moving back down. God, I needed to stop doing this, because I was liable to come. My balls were uncomfortably drawn up, heavy and full, my seed just for Nadja.

  I should’ve stopped now, but I couldn’t, not when I felt how slick she was for me, not when it felt too damn good to have my cock sliding between her folds.

  “This is torture,” she moaned, thrusting her chest out again suggestively.

  “I’ll give you everything, Nadja. You already own me.” I leaned down, which caused the length of my cock to mold right against her slit, the lips framing my dick so fully I gritted my teeth to try to keep from coming. I captured her mouth with mine, and a hiss left me when I felt her score my back with her nails. Fuck, that felt good. I took her lips and tongue harder, fucking her here just like I would between her thighs.

  As I pushed my hips forward even harder and dragged my teeth along the plumpness of her lips, I felt her tense beneath me. I hummed, “Let go for me.” And as I rocked back and forth, as I kissed her harder, and as she opened her mouth wider, I knew she was going over the edge.

  Nadja cried out and clutched me to her, and I didn’t stop moving against her.

  It was long seconds before her tremors finally receded, and I pulled back to see the post-euphoria lining her face.

  She was so fucking beautiful.

  Before her pleasure fully dimmed, I reached down and grabbed the root of my shaft, placing the tip at her entrance once more. And then I swallowed roughly and started to push forward.

  Fuck, she was tight, really fucking tight that it almost bordered on pain. I gritted my teeth and made sure to go slow so I didn’t hurt her even more. Her pussy clenched around me, and she gasped. I stilled a moment then pushed the rest of my length into her in one fluid motion.

  She cried out, and I buried my face in the crook of her neck, inhaling her scent, feeling her inner muscles working around me. I hated that I was the one to cause her pain.

  “Are you okay?” I asked softly and pulled back, using a hand to cup her cheek, staring into her eyes. “I hate that it hurt for you.”

  She gave me a smile, and I couldn’t stop from leaning down and capturing her lips in a gentle kiss.

  “I’m okay,” she whispered against my mouth.

  “Do you want to stop?” She was shaking her head before I finished.

  While staring into her eyes, I pulled almost all the way out, just the tip lodged in her body. And then I sank into her again, my mouth going slack as the pleasure tried to drag me under. She moaned, whimpered, but tightened her arms around me, keeping me close.

  Not moving, and just allowing her time to adjust to my size, I continued to move my mouth against hers, pressing my tongue to hers in slow sweeps and with gentle pressure.

  “You feel so good,” I grunted, unable to stop the words from coming out.

  After a long moment, I started moving in and out of her very slowly, allowing her time to get used to the feel of me. Only when I saw the way her breathing changed, and the fact that she had a glazed-over look of pleasure across her face, did I start to go faster.

  The way her breasts swayed from the rocking motion, the fact that her nipples were achingly hard, had my mouth watering.

  “How does it feel, baby?” I snapped my focus back to her face.

  “It’s a little uncomfortable, but feels good. So good!” she cried out and closed her eyes, the sound gratifying. She kept clenching and unclenching her fingers on my shoulders, and I loved the pleasure and pain it caused. “Don’t stop.”

  I groaned and thrust deep inside her. “Christ, Nadja.” I was trying to control myself. “I’ve never felt anything as good as being inside you.” I was going to come, and really hard, but not before she did one more time.

  I leaned back, adjusted her so Nadja’s lower half was tipped up, and watched as I moved in and out of her. The sight of my thick length stretching her wide as I pushed forward, of her pink, glistening flesh sucking at me as if there was no other option, had my balls drawing up tight.

  Christ.

  I placed my thumb on her clit and started rubbing the nub back and forth, needing her to get off once more. “Come on, Nadja, one more time, baby.” And she gave in just like that.

  A gasp left her as she came. The sight of the pleasure washing over her face and the sound of her ecstasy was one of the hottest things I ever experienced. And that was my fucking breaking point.

  I started pushing my hips forward and pulling them back, faster and harder until I was getting off too. I thrusted into her once, twice, and on the third deep thrust, I stilled and came so hard stars moved behind my closed lids.

  My orgasm seemed to go on forever, and every muscle in my body was tense from the strain of pleasure. When I was exhausted, spent, and my balls drained, I collapsed on top of her, breathing hard, my heart beating frantically. The knowledge I filled her up, that my seed was deep in her, wasn’t lost on me. A very male, territorial part hoped she got pregnant, that having a part of me growing in Nadja would be fucking perfect. But another part said, until the time was right, I should have been more careful, wore a condom.

  But fuck, I wanted to be raw inside her, bare, and feel all her wetness and heat.

  “I love you,” I said, my mouth right by her ear. I moved off her, although that was the last damn thing I wanted to do. I wanted to be buried inside Nadja the rest of the night.

  Before she could move away from me, I wrapped my arm around her waist, pulling her chest to mine, keeping her right up against me. I leaned in and kissed her, addicted to the feel of her, her flavor that danced along my tongue… everything that made her up.

  We kissed for long, drugging moments. Our skin was damp from sweat, but it felt so damn good to have her this close, with nothing separating us, to finally have her in the most intimate, basic way a man and woman co
uld be together.

  When we broke away, she was breathing hard, but the pleasurable hum that left her made me feel satisfied. I made her feel this way. I stared at her face, loving that her cheeks were blushed, her eyes half-lidded, and her lips glossy and swollen.

  She looked like this, because I made her feel good.

  “I love you too,” she whispered and looked into my eyes.

  I heard this strange note in her voice after she said that, almost this sad quality. I didn’t delve into that, just wanting to enjoy this moment.

  I didn’t know how long this would last, didn’t know if we’d get another chance to be this bare and open and vulnerable to each other for a long while if her father had anything to do with it, so right now, I just wanted to hold her.

  And so I kissed her again, telling myself there would never be another woman for me. Nadja owned my heart fully.

  3

  Nadja

  I shut the door as silently as I could and leaned against it, closing my eyes and feeling a smile spread across my face. My entire body hummed, the soreness between my legs, the stickiness from Frankie’s seed soaking through my panties and sticking to my inner thighs. It was a filthy thought, but one I found highly arousing.

  I had no doubt my father knew where I was tonight. Even if Frankie had done a stuntman kind of escape to try to lose the trail. But my father always had his men following me, not just because of who he was in the bratva and that in turn put me in danger, but because my father was controlling.

  I wasn’t just his daughter. I was more of a pawn in a very dangerous game with very evil men.

  I was a bargaining chip.

  The house was silent, the sound of the grandfather clock down the hallway ticking down the seconds seeming obscenely loud. It was eerily silent, and not just because it was the middle of the night.

  It was the kind of silence that was loud.

  My father was dangerous, but still I pushed against the bounds of his strength and authority. Not many people did that with Petrov Romonoff, fear keeping them in check. I was one of those people, but with Frankie, I felt this strength build inside me. I should have been smarter, not just for me but for him.

  But I was selfish. I loved Frankie and couldn’t stop the addiction I had to him.

  I rested my head back in the heavy, hard oak door and closed my eyes. I wished so many times I was someone else, that I lived a different life. To be anonymous, a nobody amongst everyone, free to love who I wanted, be with whomever I desired, was nothing more than a fantasy in my world.

  I opened my eyes and pushed away from the door, and although my stomach cramped from hunger, I just wanted to go to bed. I wanted to lie under my covers and close my eyes, dream about Frankie and what we’d done. I’d given him my virginity, and I wanted to give him every single part of me for the rest of my life.

  We might not have been together very long in the grand scheme of things, but that time with Frankie had been consuming, and there was nothing that had ever made me feel more alive.

  Being with him was this explosion inside me, fireworks moving throughout every synapsis in my body, coating everything, igniting every nerve ending. I could look at him and feel safe, like the outside world would never touch me. He didn’t think he was a good man, didn’t think he was good enough for me. He was so very wrong.

  I wasn’t good enough for him.

  I was about to take the steps up to my room when the scent of my father’s cigar smoke had my step faltering for a second. I should’ve known he’d be up despite the late hour. He hardly slept.

  “Nadja,” he called out for me in his raspy, thick voice. “Come,” he ordered. Despite his tone being even, I knew it was not to be disobeyed.

  I turned from the stairs and headed into his study, knowing he’d be sitting in his oversized leather chair, the fire blazing in the hearth in front of him, even if it was far too hot this time of year for one. He’d have a glass of scotch in his hand, his cigar in his other.

  I stopped in the doorway, the night before me exactly how I knew it would be. The fire licked across the logs, his chair poised in front of the mantle, the shadows in the room covering him and making him seem extra sinister.

  After my mother died—rumored under very suspicious circumstances for those brave enough to speak of it—my father had risen in the ranks of the Russian bratva.

  All I’ve ever known was the life of being the daughter of one of the top-ranking officials in the organization. Although my father kept many of his dealings secret, I knew who and what my father was. I heard the whispered meetings in the lower level of the house late at night, saw the men come and go at all hours, frightening-looking males who gave me onceovers with sickening delight.

  I knew what they’d do to me if Petrov wasn’t my father, if they knew their dicks wouldn’t be cut off and shoved down their throat if they put one hand on me.

  Again, my father wouldn’t do this because he loved me. He’d do it, because I was his property, just like every other luxury item he crammed in this mansion. And anyone who crossed him, took something from his property, would be disrespectful to him, a disgrace he’d never tolerate, because he’d never be deemed weak or could be taken advantage of.

  “Yes, Papa?” My voice was timid and I hated that. I hated that being around my father made me this scared rabbit, startled at the drop of a hat.

  My father was trouble, the worst kind, the kind that raped and pillaged, took without remorse, and defeated without a care about who or what he destroyed in the process. I supposed all the men in the bratva were, men who were at the top of the food chain and everyone else was below them, collateral damage.

  He didn’t say anything, just lifted his hand that held the cigar and motioned me forward. I smoothed my palms down my thighs, feeling my muscles tense. I was sore all over from what I’d done with Frankie, the pleasure he’d given me. But the tension I felt right now was from fear, the kind that went bone deep, the kind that twisted you up inside and made the pain excruciating.

  When I was on the other side of his chair looking down at him, I stared at his profile. Petrov Romonoff had been called many things. Although he wasn’t the head of the bratva, he was as close as they came, a right-hand man, a killer of killers. That was his nickname, the latter, an assassin for the organization.

  I just stood there, not saying anything, knowing he’d speak when he was ready. We all worked on his schedule.

  He looked at me then, bringing his cigar to his mouth, his eyes dark as he stared at me, the smoke billowing out around him. It was a sweet, cloying scent, the kind that suffocated you, wrapped its fingers around your neck and squeezed until you begged to breathe, or prayed for death just so it would end.

  He pulled the cigar out from between his lips and blew the smoke he held in his mouth out, the white clouds snaking out like tendrils, fingers searching for life to suck out.

  “You smell like him,” he said in this monotone voice I felt throughout my entire body, as if it were a serrated knife sliding down my spine.

  But still, I said nothing. What could I say? I had been with Frankie in every way possible. I had no doubt my cheeks were still pink, my lips still red and swollen from his kisses. I felt my neck tender from the scruff of his cheek as he kissed my throat. I felt him still all over me, in me.

  And I hated that my father made me feel as if what I’d done with Frankie had been wrong, some dirty act that meant nothing.

  It had meant everything.

  “I know where you were. I know what you did.” He let those words hang between us, and I licked my lips nervously.

  “I know you do.” And I did. “I know you have your men follow me.”

  He gave me a smirk, but it held no humor. “And yet you still disobey me. You still act foolish and go to him, even though I told you it can’t last.”

  In my father’s eyes, I was already taken, given away to someone who would strengthen the bratva’s alliance. But to me, in my heart, I belong
ed to Frankie.

  “I love him,” I said. I know I told him this before, when he first told me I needed to focus on what was important, and that wasn’t running around with some lowlife boy. Frankie didn’t have money, didn’t have connections. So in my father’s eyes, he was nothing but a dead end.

  “Love means nothing, Nadja,” he said in Russian, as if driving home who we were, what we stood for. His eyes were hard and cold as he stared at me. “The only thing that matters is loyalty and allegiance. That is how we survive, how we rise up.”

  And still, I stayed silent. What could I say? Nothing I uttered would make him see reason, would make him let me live my life the way I saw fit. Nothing I said would let me be in love with Frankie on my own terms.

  “I’ve let you entertain this childish infatuation long enough.” He shook his head slowly and looked back at the fire, waiting a moment before he spoke again, as if he wanted to intensify the situation with his silence. “But no longer. You’ve been given away to Maximillian Turgenev.”

  My stomach clenched painfully when my father uttered that name. I knew of Maximillian and his family. They were ruthless, vile, and evil, no empathy for anyone or anything. But then, I guess they fit in our world perfectly.

  I was crying, silent tears that slid down my cheeks. I refused to make a sound. I hated that I cried in front of him, but it was unavoidable. “I love him,” I said again, barely a whisper. My father looked at me, and I wished I could say I saw a flicker of empathy cross his face. But I didn’t. He didn’t give anyone that, least of all his only child.

  “You will be wed to Maximillian.”

  I was shaking my head then, feeling stubbornness and rage, anger and hatred fill me. “You can’t make me do this. I’m an adult. I’ll leave; I’ll run away.”

  He laughed softly then, not one ounce of humor laced in that tone.

  I felt his evilness down to my very marrow, felt that noise swirling and churning around in my belly until acid rose in my throat.